


Love to be Your Last Goodbye

by PGT



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fear of Death, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Canon, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23573044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PGT/pseuds/PGT
Summary: A reflection on the idea of death, and the difference in how Fjord and Caduceus view it.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Love to be Your Last Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Just some midnight writing! i've really been meaning to do more about Cad and Fjord. Maybe this will fuel me!  
> As always I love to read your comments!

Fjord had come to accept that he and Caduceus, no matter how infatuated with each other, no matter how many years of pining, mutual love and ultimately marriage, would never see death in the same way.

That wasn’t to say he had a hold on exactly how he felt about death; he never found value in characterizing the transition from living as a god, as most people do, however after more than one death of his own came to respect the woman holding his red strings ever so slightly. It was Caduceus’ influence, like he found so much of his life was. Revering one god meant at least respecting the others.

He had been touched by death enough times to have his own hazy visual of the woman-- a pale hand plucking him up from a vast ocean of pain and darkness. Caduceus had explained the vision, argued that death was a freeing experience, that after death one had very little to worry about, and could live in true serenity.

Fjord wasn’t so sure. He felt the Goddess’s massive, porcelain fingers were not a rescue. He thought of her almost as a farmer, plucking her harvest from the field. He didn’t care to explain to Caduceus that he felt more like a carrot in his near death experience than he felt a man, so he let it be.

Respect, a hint of fear. He could admit he didn’t care for the ambiguity of death. He’d tried to have Caduceus explain the whys and hows of the undead, to be reassured that he would never become one. But Caduceus never came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t be at risk, and Fjord was left dissatisfied.

Caduceus, too, respected death. But where Fjord feared her, Caduceus seemed to love her. Not as much as he loved the Wild Mother, she was his truest and most passionate lover. Not as much as he loved Fjord, his mortal lover. But his love with The Matron of Ravens and his love for Fjord were not as distant as it would first appear.

Many years after the Mighty Nein had disbanded, Caduceus had confessed something, beet-faced and shuffling feet, to Fjord. He said it as if confessing a deeply erotic fetish, or as a young village girl might confess to her city tutor. They lay under the covers of their shared bed, bare bodies flush, legs tangled. Caduceus’ long hair sprawled over Fjord’s chest, and they felt each other’s breathing in the silent, dawn hours.

“I’ve always dreamt of burying you.”

It, of course, startled Fjord. To say the least. He wasn’t particularly fond of the man he trusted his life to confessing to desire his death.

But if death was complex and threatening to Fjord, it was simple and nurturing to Caduceus. 

Fjord must have made an expression, and with a low rumbling laugh that insinuated otherwise, Caduceus had to reassure that, no, he wasn’t going to kill Fjord, or let Her take him before his time had come. 

“It’s so intimate, to share the last moments with a body before they rest with the Mother.” He’d said with a far off glance, falling back to Fjord’s chest dreamily. “To touch the cold cheeks you’ve seen wet with tears, crinkled with a smile, red with embarrassment. To fold the arms that have held you up, pulled you from death, held a sword in your name. To choose where you may rest for eternity, where your loved ones will migrate to in your honor. To see what flowers grow from your spirit.”

And if he didn’t love Caduceus with his whole heart-- love his cheeks, his hands, his spirit the same way Caduceus’, he wouldn’t understand. But if this was the ultimate form of love to the man he’d proudly share a name with, he was happy to oblige.

And so he promised Caduceus would be the last to hold him, and promised he would make the most delicious tea in all of the lands.

“I’ll grow the most expensive flowers so you’ll never worry about money again,” he’d said, voice touched with sleep as he tightened his arms around his lover.

“As if I’d sell your petals,” Caduceus had scoffed. And Fjord smiled, touched by the sentiment.


End file.
